And Yet, He Still Loves Me
by Nicole Wagner
Summary: A what if story. Rogue's point of view over her relationship with Remy... when it becomes abusive, and the aftermath of it all. But Gambit is not the abuser... Rogue is.


And Yet, He Still Loves Me... 

By: Nicole Wagner: The Deadly Gambit

Summary: A what if story. Rogue's point of view over her relationship with Remy... when it becomes abusive, and the aftermath of it all. But Gambit is not the abuser... Rogue is. Domestic Abuse runs both ways in life, and it is rare to read fan fiction with a woman abusing a man, so here is one.

Rated: PG-13 for Violence

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He always used to comfort me... he always used to hold me. He always spoke sweet words to me, and tried to make me feel better. My powers kept us apart, we could never do what other lovers could do. No kissing or touching... not even sex. It always put a strain on us, but Remy always seemed to smile and put it off. Though we would never be like a normal couple, though I could never give him the pleasure or desires of a normal woman, he still loved me.

I have always been frustrated with my powers, sometimes Remy would be too. But he never showed it. All he ever showed me was compassion, love, and even loyalty. He never cheated on me, though he had many opportunities to... and he never seemed to lust after anyone else but me. I was thankful for this... I know no other man would stick by my side for this long. Though he loved me so much, the stress of my powers would get to me, and I would strike out at him... and yet, he still loved me.

With my powers, a punch would break bones, they could even kill if I was not careful. In Remy's case, my punch broke his arm. I remembered him crying out in pain, and leaving the room. He went to the medical lab, and just told Hank he fell down the stairs... he never told anyone I hit him. Like I had said before, he was always so loyal to me... even though his arm was in a cast. He was able to get away with the lie, that time... but not the others.

I broke his ribs, gave him black eyes, even broke his leg at one point. I beat him for my anger towards myself, for the fact I felt like a failure as a woman. He never raised a hand back at me, he took every hit, every kick, and every abusive word I spat at him. I abused him physically and mentally... and yet, he still loved me.

His visits to the medical lab had stopped, after Hank started to get suspicious of what had been going on. Remy continued to protect me, even at the expense of his own health. When I would hurt him, he would go to different hospitals, with different names, so no one would know he was being abused by me. After every medial visit, he would come back, smiling and telling me how much he loved me, and how beautiful I was. It made me feel better... but it didn't stop my rage.

I don't know why I took my anger out on Remy, or even why he took it. I would always promise it would never happen again, that it was a one time thing. But then it became a second time thing... and a third. It kept going, and I couldn't stop myself. I was so angry with my failures, my suffering... I should have taken it out on myself, not him. I don't know why I didn't stop the first time... I don't know why I made him suffer. And yet, he still loved me.

My anger seemed to get worse, and my punches just got harder, yet Remy never complained. I'd leave him huddle don the floor, tears escaping his eyes in both pain and sadness, but he took it. He took it all without any ill feelings towards me, and I had no clue why. This went on for about a year, and then, he came up with the idea of me going to anger management. He said it would be a good idea, but it angered me. I didn't think I had a problem, and when he brought this up to me, I snapped.

I threw Remy down on the bed and straddled his hips. I began to hit his face, his chest, his arms, hearing small snaps every now and then. He begged me to stop, but I didn't. I just kept hitting him, until I heard a loud crack, when my fist meets the front of his skull. He stops struggling, he stops begging, he just lays there, eyes wide open, looking back at me. What have I done?

From what Hank told me, I had broken Remy's jaw, his forearms, and a few ribs. But the worst injury I had given him... I had cracked his skull in two. Part of his skull had cut into his brain, leading to severe damage. My anger... my rage... it nearly killed… it nearly killed the man I loved. And yet, he still loved me.

I went into therapy and anger management while Remy remained in a coma. I learned to control my rage, I learned to deal with my anger, and I learned to deal with my self hate. But it was too late, now. I feel so guilty for what I have done... so ashamed for hurting Remy like I had done. And the guilt got worse, after I learned what my anger had done to him.

Remy had woken up, but had been left brain damaged. He could not speak, he could not walk, he could not even do the basic things that all of us could do. He would have to relearn it all, and it was my fault. I looked down at him in his hospital bed, his hands bandaged up and strapped to his bed, so he would not scratch his face and eyes. His legs would kick or move about, as if he were trying to roll over on his side. But the worst was what I heard. He would moan and make sounds like an animal, as if trying to talk.

The X-Men wanted me to stay away from Remy, fearing that I might hurt him again, even with the therapy I had. But I was allowed to see him, as long as it was a supervised visit. I sat by Remy's bed, watching Hank check for brain functions, exercising his legs and arms, even changing his diapers. I just wanted to die, I deserved to die for what I had done to him. But what would that solve? It would not take away all the broken bones I had given Remy. It would not take away his pain. It would not erase the damage I have caused.

Sometimes I would cry at his side, and Hank would try to comfort me... but I don't deserve the comfort. Remy's eyes look over at us from time to time, and he has such a sad look on his face. He moans and cries at me, as if to tell me it's not my fault. Through all I have done, for every bone I have broken, and for every hurtful word I have spoken to him... he does not seem to care. I have stolen his life, and yet, he still loves me... and I don't deserve a bit of it.

END


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